


This Fair Land You Call Home

by littlehuntress



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Curse Breaking, Elemental Magic, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Elements, Feelings Realization, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Sex Magic, Slow Build, Snow and Ice, Sorcerers, Topping from the Bottom, Visions in dreams, Winter, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehuntress/pseuds/littlehuntress
Summary: A prince, the forest and a witch.Two men, a curse and magic.After an encounter with a forest enchantress, a curse befalls Prince Arthur Pendragon. To break it and return to his life Arthur must reconcile with those he’s harmed the most: all beings and creatures of magic. And perhaps, learn the truth of his heart along the way.





	This Fair Land You Call Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marmaladica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marmaladica/gifts).



> Marmaladica, when I read your request your mention of fairy tales and fables caught my interest, I had an initial idea of what I wanted to write, but since then this fic completely got away from me and became what it is now. I hope there's something that'll be of your liking. Happy holidays! :) 
> 
> Thank you mods for your patience and for making this fest a great experience. <3
> 
> I also want to thank my awesome beta G who caught all my mistakes, listened to me whine and convinced me this wasn't absolutely terrible. <3 <3

In the dead of the night, when the rest of the world was fast asleep, the forest woke up to the frightened gallop of a lost mare. The loud thump of hoofbeats were a ghostly and thunderous echo. 

Alone and tired the mare ventured into the intricate maze of hidden roads surrounded by absolute blackness, a place where trees rose high and the mice scurried away. Trapped in the darkness her thumping was silenced. 

It was then the first snowfall began cascading from tufts of heavy clouds above. 

A blizzard hailed from the sky, impetuous and unannounced. A coat of powdery snow soon began covering roots and grass, and the wind carried snowflakes that stuck to trees painting leaves and flowers with frost. Gold and brown turned silver and white. 

The forest would've gone back to sleep and forgotten the night, except, a weak cough pierced through the stillness, because there, on a bank of snow laid the mare’s rider. The rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible. His limbs were numb and he was shivering, the cold had reached his bones. _Stay awake, stay awake_ , he thought. His life couldn't end there. 

His head lolled to one side his eyelids drooping. He was tired. He blinked his eyes open, sparing a thought for his Father. It was better to be brave and face his fate, soon it would be over, but then— he saw her.

She moved effortlessly, almost gliding on the snow, her long black cloak dragged behind her and her face was partially hidden by a hood. Only her golden eyes were visible. It was as if shadows and darkness had clothed her. 

"It didn't have to come to this,” she said once she’d reached him. She towered above him, a dark figure he’d remember until the end. " _Arthur._ " 

His name uttered from her lips was a taunt. He wanted to fight her, to get out of these parts, but not even his voice could be found; much less his strength. She’d won. Kneeling beside him she raised her hands above his chest and started chanting, a warmth spread under his ribs. 

“To rid yourself from these chains you ought to walk in the footsteps of a stranger, see with their eyes, feel what they feel. Listen to me, Arthur. Your time is already running out.” 

He felt a dull pain burning him from inside, suffocating him, the agony was unbearable. 

The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes were her starless eyes.

*

Arthur startled awake gasping for air. He’d been out in the snow and he’d almost—

It was warm. _He_ was warm. 

His chest hurt every time he drew breath; otherwise he was safe. He noticed belatedly he was under a couple of woolen blankets. They were soft and clearly homemade. His brow furrowed in confusion. _Where was he?_ The sounds of crackling fire caught his attention. He tried to sit up to investigate his surroundings, but a wave of nausea had him curling on his side. His vision darkened. 

"You're awake," someone said. Instinctively, Arthur reached for his sword. Founding nothing he realizad he was weak and was defenseless. With decision he fought through the nausea and pushed himself up leaning back on his hands. Little by little his world came into focus. 

A tall, lean man was close to the hearth, tending to a pot over a crackling fire. The flames lit up his face as he regarded Arthur quietly. An assorted collection of cups, pitcher, dry flowers and herbs hung above his head. A table was the only thing separating him from Arthur, its surface was was crowded with even more herbs, plants, books and candles. Not a single corner was empty. 

Arthur was at a loss. He didn't know whose bed he was laying on, if it was day or night, or why he found himself in the company of a stranger. He watched the man produce a ladle out of nowhere and stir the contents of the large pot before he poured steaming liquid on a cup. 

“You need to regain your strength,” he said walking to Arthur. Up close Arthur could tell they were close in age. A strong, sweet and flowery smell reached him. “Here.” 

Arthur backed against the wall to rest more comfortably, unable to understand why he was willing to trust this stranger. He was about to reach for the cup when he noticed the marking on the inside of his wrist. He looked from his hand to his face finding serene blue eyes. "You're a sorcerer," Arthur wheezed out, his accusation clear. A sorcerer. Here. In front of Arthur, offering tea as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. As if they were the same.

The man rolled his eyes, his lips pursed in what Arthur could only guess was disdain. "And you're the Prince and spite of that here we are.” He was still holding the cup, albeit his grasp was harder. Arthur felt trapped. He wasn't truly safe. Sorcerers weren't to be trusted, his gut had lied to him this time. “Now that the introductions are done with, I need you to drink this and lay back down. You’re still weak.” With each word he spoke Arthur's confusion rose. He wasn't trying anything shoddy.

“But you are— I can’t.” 

Arthur needed to get out, the forest was treacherous as were its people. This could be a trap.

“Fine. Drink it, don’t drink it. Your choice. That’s what I get for trying to help those who doesn't deserve it.” He put the cup down on a little table nearby. Arthur could've sworn it wasn't there before. 

He was taken aback by the harsh tone. No one in his twenty years of life had dared to speak to him in such a way. Every encounter he’d had with magic before had always ended in his Father shunning magic. Magic was something ancient and dangerous. Something you feared. But this— man. Nothing could've prepared Arthur for this. For the kindness of a sorcerer. It was unheard of. 

“Why are you doing this?” Arthur asked. 

“Because sometimes I don't think things through. I just act,” he answered. Arthur almost chuckled but managed to keep himself in check. The man let out a long sigh before he said, “I’m not heartless enough to leave a man to die.” 

Arthur was struck. His eyes widened. 

“You should drink it,” he said pointing at the cup. “It’ll be good for you. It’s one of my best healing brews and it tastes good.” He frowned. “I hope.” 

“You’re—" 

“Save it. I will leave you to it.” 

Arthur was left alone in a strange bed, in an unknown place, with a sorcerer who despite his care seemed to hate him. Sleep finally claimed Arthur after much tossing and turning. 

*

Arthur started to hate the feeling of waking up disoriented.

Morning had come and soft light streamed in from the windows. 

Arthur felt awkward laying on the bed, unmoving, his skin prickling with discomfort. He noted that the aches in his body were less than the day before. He brought his hand up, flexed his fingers. Sensations were back. Had he been in his own chambers a servant would've woke him up, helped him get dressed and brought breakfast to him. Here he was a house guest, not by choice but by circumstance. 

The other side of the room was lively: the shuffle of feet, the banging of pots, whistling and the delicious smell of food that made his stomach protest with hunger. Arthur didn't dare move. 

He was obviously being childish. This was not appropriate behavior for him. 

Before he could come to a decision he was broken from his thoughts. “Are you planning on laying there forever? Be warned, I’m not bringing you breakfast to bed.” 

“No,” Arthur said as loud and clear as he could. He kicked the blankets away and rose, ignoring the sudden pain in his chest, hurting him as if someone had reached inside it with a live coal. He rubbed his palm over it, hoping—perhaps naively—it would help to ease the pain. 

“What happened to my clothes?” Arthur demanded taking a long look at himself. He was wearing only his undergarments, his feet bare. 

The sorcerer spun on his feet to face him and gave him a cursory glance. He shrugged. “Took you long enough to notice.” 

“Do you mean you found me like this?” Arthur was mortified by the idea. 

A mischievous smile was directed at him. “I had to dry them. They were wet from the snow,” he explained. 

“So, are you eating or not?" He asked waving a fork in his direction. His stomach grumbled, Arthur supposed he was. 

The cottage was small and cozy, full of trinkets and old furniture. The books and candles had been removed from the table that currently held a modest breakfast. And the dry herbs were now tied to a wooden fixture on the hearth, right next to a line of vials. 

Arthur gingerly sat down on a chair that looked like it would fall apart if he made the wrong move. Across from him, the— "What did you say your name was?" Arthur asked thinking he couldn't go on calling him sorcerer. It felt strangely wrong. The man didn't fit the image his Father had drawn for him of what one should be. Not with his blue eyes and big ears, not with his complete disregard for Arthur. He was a Prince and yet treated like a commoner. He was at the table in breeches and tunic. So much for modesty. 

"I never said," he answered, promptly ignoring Arthur in favour of munching on a piece of bread. When he swallowed and drank his cup of tea, he said, "It's Merlin." 

" _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said testing out the name. “Isn't that a bird?” 

Merlin nodded. With his hands he wiped away crumbs from the table. “Despite what you might think I’m not trying to kill you. Your food isn't poisoned,” he said pointing at the plate in front of Arthur. His eyes narrowed. “That’d be too easy.” 

Arthur stopped the spoon midway to his mouth. Right. There was still danger around him. He should stay alert. He was hungry though. 

Merlin pushed a cup toward him. “It’s better than yesterday. Tasted it myself.” 

“What’s in it?” 

“Violet leaves, linden, apples, honey and a pinch of peppermint,” Merlin listed. “Anything else you might need to know to ease your mind?” 

Arthur shook his head. The first sip of tea warmed him and he found no reason to not drink it all. Through the window he saw it’d begun to snow again, he remembered stumbling and falling, when a sudden thought came to him. “Llamrei,” he muttered. The chair screeched as he got up in a hurry, the cup turned over and the tea spilled down to the floor. 

Merlin caught his arm before he threw the door open. 

“What do you think you’re doing? You can't go out like this,” Merlin said sounding almost scandalized. “You don't know what's out there.” 

Arthur managed to get away from Merlin's grasp, but he couldn't get rid of him. He was blocking the only exit. Arthur was yet again reminded of his magic. In his current state Arthur was no foe for him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“My horse,” he said, “I can't leave her.”

“And you aren't. I found her last night, she's safe,” Merlin said. Arthur wanted to ask how he’d known where she was. If he even slept at all. Merlin was earnest when he said, “Believe me. At least this once.” 

Against better judgment Arthur nodded. He leaned against the cold rock wall behind him, tiredness crept up on him. He closed his eyes wanting whatever this was to be over alredy. 

“I think we have to talk,” Merlin said sending a shiver down his spine.

*

He was Arthur again. Arthur Pendragon. The Prince of Camelot.

In appearance at least. 

Merlin had given him his dried clothes and boots back, they looked perfectly laundered as if someone at the castle had done it. They were soft and cleaner than Arthur remembered. He’d had half a mind to ask him if he had used magic, but something told him Merlin wouldn't answer him. Instead he’d nodded in acknowledgement. 

He pulled at his sleeves and stared at Merlin. 

He was dithering, walking from side to side giving Arthur a headache. Occasionally he’d stop to grab a book and hide his face behind it pretending Arthur was invisible. For someone so adamant on talking he sure did very little of it. 

“You’re stalling,” he said with as much authority as he could muster. Merlin stopped, bending a corner of one of the book’s pages and closed it shut. 

“I assure you I am not. I was trying to find the best way to approach this.” 

“Approach what?” Arthur crossed his arms irritated. He should’ve marched right out ignoring Merlin’s protests and never look back. He was sure he could find his way out. He’d been trained since an early age for battle. A forest wasn't about to beat him. Dangerous or not. 

Merlin sat down at the table and gestured for Arthur to do the same. With reluctance Arthur did as asked. He hated feeling he was at Merlin's. Arthur didn't know what he was capable of. 

“Give me your hand,” Merlin commanded. Arthur gaped at him, unable to catch up with whatever was happening. All of a sudden Merlin was unnervingly calm. In control. Arthur shifted in his seat. 

“Pardon?” 

“Your hand. Your right hand.” 

Without hurrying Arthur raised his hand and held it out. His pulse was a rapid tempo. Merlin's eyes appeared to be brighter as they traveled over his face, his expression unreadable. Too many times he’d heard his Father speak of the ways of sorcerers, how they can ensnare you, steal your will if you weren't careful. 

Merlin’s fingers curled around his wrist turning it around so his palm was facing up. Arthur's skin prickled at the contact. Merlin stared as if he could see beyond the flesh and blue veins, his thumb brushed over the skin on the inside of his wrist searching and exploratory. Arthur didn't think he’d ever been as quiet or confused. 

Unexpectedly, Merlin's eyes changed their color, they went from blue to an unnatural gold. Arthur had seen that hue before, staring him down. His stomach churned and he recoiled from Merlin’s touch. 

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked forcefully, standing up. 

Merlin blinked, the golden gone. His forehead was scrunched up and he stared at Arthur the way one looks at someone who makes little sense. “I’m afraid I’m lost as to what you mean,” he said getting up from his seat. “I was trying to help.” 

“To help?” Arthur barked disbelieving. “Help me? You? With— _magic_.” Arthur spit out the word like it was dirty. 

Merlin stepped forward digging a finger on Arthur's chest painfully, his lips were a thin line. “You still don't understand,” he said. Arthur was trapped between a wall and Merlin, his glare could've burned him down to the ground, Arthur was sure he was about to be hexed. Instead, Merlin took a step back, breathing in. He was still shaking with unreleased anger. 

Arthur raised one eyebrow. 

Merlin scrubbed a hand down his face emitting a deep, frustrated sigh. “Did anyone ever teach you to not be such a prat?” 

Arthur was so surprised he snorted a laugh.

*

The last embers had died by the time Arthur left the bed. He got dressed in the darkness, careful not to make a sound. Merlin was asleep in a pallet, covered up to his chest, his face turned from view. Arthur had waited for him to go to sleep to set his plan in motion. They barely had crossed a word after their argument and Arthur spent the rest of the day pretending he didn't notice Merlin avoiding him. In the small space it was impossible.

With cautious steps he moved around the cottage feeling his way out, he almost tripped twice and nearly knocked over a pile of books. It was unbelievable how cluttered and messy Merlin kept the place. 

He reached the door and briefly wonder if he should’ve left a note. He shook his head berating himself, the mere idea was preposterous. 

An unknown road stretched ahead of him, snowy trees, wild animals. He was convinced he knew the kingdom like the back of his hand, but these lands had always been a mystery. He’d approached them with a watchful eye, wary of the area and the natives. The roads he'd traveled in full daylight were foreign and deceptive when nothing but darkness spread from end to end. 

The wind ululated, whispered in his ear. Owls up on the trees’ branches swiveled their heads following his path. _Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo_ they called. 

After an eternity of walking his footsteps were carved in the snow. Twilight was nearing, a fresh coat of snow had fallen and it was getting harder to navigate the terrain. And yet, he was back to where he’d started. 

The marking he'd left on one of the trees confirmed his suspicions: he had been walking in circles. 

He screamed kicking at the snow, burying his face in his hands. Anger was rising inside him. Finding a way out of the forest was turning out to be impossible. The sensation of eyes on him stopped him from choosing another road to take. 

Someone was behind him. He whirled around and grabbed the individual and shoved him against the nearest tree. It was Merlin. 

Merlin looked unimpressed with Arthur’s exhibition of strength. It annoyed Arthur to no end.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked letting Merlin go. 

“I followed you. I thought that’d be obvious,” said Merlin. He was wearing a black cloak that made him look like the sorcerer he was supposed to be. 

“I realize. What I want to know is why.” 

Merlin tilted his head taking a long look at him. “You strike me as someone who might need a bit of help.” 

“I don’t need nor do I want help,” Arthur said, “Much less from the likes of you.” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he’d made a mistake. Merlin’s expression turned stony. Nothing was turning out in his favor.

“The likes of me?” Merlin scoffed. “You should be aware you’re not in your kingdom anymore. This forest belongs to us. Here, magic lives.” 

“I’m—” Arthur began, took a deep breath. Merlin so far had only helped him and Arthur wasn't an ingrate. Bracing himself for what he was about to do, he said, “I didn't mean to. Could you—Can we put this behind us?” It was hard for him. 

“I’m guessing there's no other option. Unless I leave you here.” Merlin tapped his chin with a finger. “Sounds tempting.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “How about we make a truce?” 

“Intriguing. Shake on it?” 

Merlin’s hand was warm and clammy against his. If his Father could see him he’d probably accuse Arthur of treason. Not even himself could understand what he was doing anymore. 

“I have walked most of the night,” Arthur said playing with rings on his fingers refusing to see Merlin in the eye. “Do you have any idea why I’m still here?” 

“I belive you’re cursed,” Merlin answered, he looked down to the ground. “I’m sorry.” 

Arthur was stunned. “How do you know?” 

“I suspected something was amiss when I found you, yet I couldn't be sure. Yesterday when I tried to read the remnants of magic surrounding you, I felt it was powerful magic. As ancient as the universe itself. I've felt it before. And today, my suspicious were confirmed when you couldn't leave the forest. Do you remember how it happened?” Merlin asked, his voice more careful and soft than Arthur had heard it before. “I need to know to figure out how deep it runs. That is, if you need help from the likes of me.” 

On one hand Arthur’s mind was telling him he shouldn't trust a sorcerer, on the other— 

"Fine," Arthur said throwing his arms up in the air. "I need your help." 

Merlin’s lips twitched before he broke into a smirk. "I thought you'd never ask."

*

Merlin was leading the way back to his cottage, Arthur trudged behind him counting their steps. He tried to memorize the route, however Merlin was quick changing courses, going left when Arthur would've gone right. If he were inclined to believe the legends he would've said the forest answered to Merlin, to his magic, opening new paths for him. Guiding him into the hinterland.

The sky was grey, soft glowing light shined on the white snow and bounced off the ice crystals clinging to pine trees. 

Ahead of them Arthur could see the cottage flanked by towering oaks and pines, a canopy of frosty leaves shielding it. Arthur stopped and looked at his surroundings. Three days ago he’d been in Camelot, having a warm meal on his bedchambers, servants at his disposition. That world seemed so far away. 

He caught up with Merlin surprised by his own willingness to follow him. “I have to show you something,” Merlin said, stopping Arthur with an arm on his chest before they could go inside. Arthur stared, they were far too close. Merlin dropped his arm and gestured to the side. 

Arthur nodded stiffly. “Very well.” 

Together they went around the back and Arthur had the sneaking suspicion he was getting into something unpredictable. 

They stood facing a wooden shed, a barn of sorts, it had been concealed before Merlin murmured a string of foreign words Arthur couldn't understand. He didn't look at Arthur once. 

Merlin pushed the double doors open, revealing a comforting sight. Arthur flied past Merlin into the shed, his boots crunching the hay covering the ground. Llamrei gave a soft, breathy whinny in recognition. Arthur laughed feeling a weight lift from him now that his beloved mare was with him. 

Her ears were pricked in his direction, head raised. Arthur patted her flanks affectionately, whispering, “It’s so good to see you.” The mare puffed out breath, vibrating with excitement. 

Arthur turned his head to find Merlin. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The words spilled from his mouth before he could think twice. “Thank you,” he said. 

Merlin froze. Pushing himself off the wall he gave Arthur a wide-eyed gaze. Arthur was the one to break eye contact first clearing his throat. 

“You _do_ know how to say thank you,” Merlin said and waggled his eyebrows ridiculously. 

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever,” he muttered, going back to petting Llamrei. Effectively hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.

*

Night had fallen fast after he’d spent the afternoon with Llamrei. Merlin had kept her calm, safe and well fed—she’d devoured the oats he left her. Arthur was grateful, a scrap of hope had resurfaced within him. He didn't put up a fuzz, or doubted joining Merlin for supper. He could be civilized.

“So,” Arthur began, “What can you do?” 

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Uh, tea?” 

Arthur tapped his fingers against the table. He wasn't altogether sure why but his curiosity was being piqued by Merlin. “That's not what I meant and you know it,” Arthur said. 

“What are you asking for, Arthur?” Merlin asked astounding Arthur with the blunt use of his name. He pushed his plate away fixing Arthur with a hard stare. His jaw clenched tight. 

Arthur wasn't expecting the change in Merlin's demeanour, before he had dared to speak he had smiled at him. Arthur supposed it was understandable. Justified even. He couldn't possibly be any sorcerer’s favourite person. “I just want to learn more about magic.” His statement sounded ludicrous even to his own ears, but as soon as he said it he knew it was the truth. 

“You? Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot and Heir to the Throne, wants to learn about magic,” Merlin said with a hint of mockery in his tone. “When I found you and realized who you were I thought Fate was playing tricks. I’m starting to think this has been a miscalculation on my part.” 

“I mean it,” Arthur swore. "I know nothing about your kind, about magic." 

Merlin leaned back in his chair and gazed at him. “I’m not sure I should believe you. You don't even trust me. How can I trust you with this?” 

“But I think I do.” Hearing himself say it was a shock.

“You didn't believe me about Llamrei until you saw her with your own eyes.” 

Arthur couldn't deny it. There was a part of him that had kept repeating Merlin was a liar. “You’ve used your magic in my presence before. Even when I couldn’t see your golden, otherworldly eyes, I could tell. I’m not a complete idiot.” 

“Maybe so, but this is different. Those were spontaneous moments, necessary. You’re asking me to show you who I am without restraints. You're not understanding,” Merlin said. 

“Then I’m asking you to help me understand.” Arthur hoped he’d come across as sincere. Right then all he wanted was to get to know more about Merlin and his world. 

Merlin sighed slumping in his chair. “You are the absolute worst. I’ll probably regret this.” 

Merlin's eyes turned gold, Arthur drew in a breath. A basket of fruits in the middle of the table shook and an apple floated up in the air, it rotated in front of Arthur's face. Arthur tapped the apple with a finger, it tumbled down with a thud. 

“That was...Unexpected.” 

Merlin chuckled, he gestured at Arthur next. From his chest to the top of his head. 

“What?” Arthur asked. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

“I had to use my magic to cure your wounds,” he explained. 

“Oh," Arthur said, his forehead creased in contemplation. "I just thought there was something in the brews you’ve given me."

Merlin's eyes twinkled. “You needed more than teas and brews to heal.” 

A row of candles on the table burst to life. “The world needs balance," Merlin said with the gravitas of someone who’s about to spun a tale of mystery. “Magic is older than we dare imagine. It’s woven into the fabric of the world.” 

"I'm starting to think you're full of shit," Arthur interrupted, Merlin grinned. 

"Without light, there is no darkness,” Merlin continued getting comfortable in his seat. 

Arthur listened until the last candle melted.

*

_Arthur was standing on a clearing, light snow was falling dusting the world with white. Trees encircled him without a visible exit. They were colossal, with grey trunks and cracked bark, their branches grew twisted and dark._

_In the middle of the clearing a tall black throne sat on a hill of snow. A woman in a long black gown occupied it. A silver-grey wolf stood by her side, still like a statue. Its eyes an unsettling blue that wouldn’t lose Arthur from their sight._

_Arthur recognized her. It was the one who’d sealed his fate. The witch of this forest._

_Arthur clenched his fists. He was ready to put up a fight. He tried to charge forward, but his feet and legs wouldn’t respond. He couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. As much as he tried none of his limbs would listen. The burning pain in his chest burst forth leaving him breathless. His voice was also gone._

_Her mouth wasn't moving yet she spoke. “When the snow melts and the ice thaws your time will be up. Destiny is near. Only in your hands can the future be reshaped.”_

_Arthur fell to his knees screaming in pain._

*

“I believe this is as far as we can go,” Merlin said.

Nodding, Arthur asked, “How close are we to the edge?” He didn't recognize the roads they were in. They were surrounded by Holly trees, ripe bright red berries hung from them. 

Merlin had a way with the forest Arthur could barely grasp. He knew all the shortcuts and he suspected that it was only because of him Arthur could get that far. Alone he walked in circles. 

Merlin cleared away snow from a log and sat down stretching his legs. “Nowhere near,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me. About the dream.” 

“And?” Arthur sat next to Merlin. Their arms almost touching. 

“She wants you here.” 

Arthur's lips pressed together and he stared into space. “We’ve already established I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

A fortnight had passed since Arthur first dreamt with the witch, her words had swarmed his head with uncertainty. He couldn’t go back to sleep after. In the morning he had been unable to hold off from telling Merlin about it, needing to make sense of the turmoil inside him. Turned out Merlin was a good listener and had some ideas. The next day they’d roamed the forest’s paths and trails, climbed hills and slopes. And then they’d done every day since. They never reached the limits. Everytime Arthur tried to go farther his chest would start to hurt. An iron grip crushing his lungs and heart. And every night they’d returned to the cottage in silence. 

“That’s the wrong attitude,” Merlin chastised nudging Arthur with his pointy elbow. He glared at Merlin. Arthur thought his attitude was the right one given the situation. 

“Were you going anywhere with your sharp observations?” Arthur asked. 

Arthur caught the exact moment Merlin suppressed an eye roll. “Your presence here has a reason behind it. I can’t tell you why or what you must to do to break away from her spell. But we can keep looking if you want.” 

It was his uncomplicated use of the word _we_ that made Arthur stop and regard Merlin with a smidgen of fascination. Merlin had done nothing but help him and despite his prickly attitude in the beginning, he was amiable and good-natured. He’d even started to smile at Arthur. Late at night when the fire was dying and they could barely keep their eyes open. Even so, there were smiles. 

Arthur never failed to return them. 

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He envisioned his Father standing on the Great Hall, commanding and shouting orders. His tone choleric, disguising his heartache with the face of a tyrant. 

He had probably sent the knights to scour the land in search of him. Arthur wondered not for the first time if he’d ever see Camelot again. 

Merlin was quiet which Arthur had come to learn it was unusual for him. He’d discovered one afternoon that a silent Merlim meant he was giving him space. Arthur had never had someone like Merlin in his life. Not that he had him or that he would want to. But it was a nice feeling knowing he wasn’t completely alone. 

He wanted to reciprocate his kindness. He could be honest at the very least. 

Arthur cleared his throat attracting Merlin’s attention. He slapped his thigh and took a hard, long breath. “I fear I haven’t told you everything about that day,” he said. 

There was no need for him to specify what day, Merlin knew. He could tell by the way Arthur refused to meet his eyes. Merlin wrapped his arms around himself, a deep frown settling on his face. He was pulling back. He did that sometimes. He would be making one of his brews, concentrating on stirring and mixing, and herbs and vials would zoom through the air to go to him, and then he’d catch sight of Arthur staring and he’d look away and close his golden eyes. Arthur hated when that happened. He could admit, if only to himself he’d discovered the beguiling side of magic.

It was reasonable he should experience such wonderment. Never before had he been so close to a sorcerer or seen books stacking themselves into a pile. He could no longer deny the virtues of magic.

“Merlin,” he said with the odd urge to apologize. Merlin stopped him by lifting his hand. 

“Talk,” he said. 

“That day I had been following the trail of a sorceress,” he started. Merlin made a distressed sound in the back of his throat. Despite of the twisting of his stomach he had to keep going. “She had escaped and my Father sent me after her. She led me here and— She transformed herself before I could take her back. Llamrei escaped and the next thing I remember is waking up in your cottage. All my life I’ve done what my Father asked of me. I now realize I shouldn’t have turned a blind eye. I’m sorry.”

This time Merlin’s silence didn’t mean companionship. When he spoke his voice was devoid of emotion. “Do you remember I said you didn’t understand?”

Arthur nodded. 

“You’ve prosecuted us for something we are born with. For our nature. And I can understand fear for the unknown, but your Father has done more harm to us. At least now you admit your part on it. I believe there’s hope and I trust you can do something to remedy the situation. I must be insane because I trust you. Don’t prove me wrong.”

"I swear I won't."

They walked back when the sun had gone down. Arthur thinking about Merlin’s words. Guilt had made a home in his chest. 

There were worse things than the forest.

*

Arthur nearly burned his fingers but he had managed to put tea and bread on the table. He was proud of himself.

That was the easy part. 

Merlin had just woken up, his hair was a mess reminiscent of a bird’s nest and he dragged his feet across the floorboards. He came to a stop in front of Arthur, he peeked over his shoulder blinking and rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Arthur stared at him as if he were an apparition, he couldn't crush the surge of tenderness he felt. 

“You,” Merlin said sounding shocked, “You did this?” 

“Yes. I thought—Yes, I made breakfast.” Arthur chewed on his bottom lip, looking away from Merlin’s intent gaze. 

“Right then, shall we?” 

They sat down in their usual seats, Merlin wouldn't tear his eyes from Arthur, he felt them burning holes in his skin. He kept bouncing his knee, trying to ignore him, but it wouldn't work. 

“What?” He asked defensive.

Merlin shrugged uncaring. “I’m trying to find any signs that you’ve hit your head. This is so out of character.” 

Arthur scowled, throwing a piece of bread in Merlin’s direction hitting him square in the face, Merlin laughed, all light and bright. He picked up the bread from where it had fallen. 

“You shouldn't play with your food,” Merlin said, his smile hadn't dwindled. “But honestly, why did you do this? I’m assuming you have never had the need to even boil water on your own.” 

“You aren't telling lies. This is the first time I’ve put food on a table, I know it’s not a feast, but I tried. I just wanted to apologize,” Arthur said, pushing the words out of his mouth before he lost his resolve. “I am sorry for everything that I’ve done and all I haven’t.” 

Merlin stopped chewing, he tilted his head, considering. “You’ve said sorry before, it doesn't change the fact you stood back as your father unleashed his hate against magic.” 

Arthur wanted to protest, say anything to change Merlin’s impression of him, but he couldn't. He’d let hate and fear outweigh his doubts. 

“But I understand, we only know what we are taught. Arthur, you could bring change if you truly wanted,” Merlin said, his voice had gone soft. Arthur felt hope bloom in his chest, perhaps that was the answer: change. 

“I do,” he said firmly. 

“Then I’m not the one you have to apologize to,” Merlin said, “Later today, I want you to come with me.” 

“Where?” 

“It’s a secret.” 

It didn't matter how much Arthur prodded Merlin he wouldn't say a word. He’d just smile mysteriously and wink at him. Arthur had no choice but go on about his day like he had been doing so far. He spent time with Llamrei, feeding her, talking with her, asking her opinion of Merlin. 

Merlin had disappeared after breakfast. He did that sometimes, he’d leave without a word and would come back in the evening, smelling like smoke and wild flowers, like cinnamon and sea salt, like damp earth and rain. Arthur never asked him where he’d gone, he figured it wasn't his business; though he was curious. 

He had cleaned himself as best as he could, and was putting the new tunic Merlin had given him when he came into the room. He dumped a batch of herbs on the table and stared at Arthur critically. 

“Is it still hurting?” Merlin asked. 

“What?” 

“Your chest. Does it still hurt?” 

Arthur shook his head. It did. It hurt at night when strange dreams plagued him. It hurt when he felt helpless. 

Merlin walked up to him and pressed his palm against his clothed chest. “I’ve known better liars. I can tell her spell is still alive in there, it is hurting you.” 

“It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning,” he answered, focusing on Merlin’s hand on him, he licked his lips. “I think I’m feeling better.” 

Merlin followed with his eyes the movement, almost mesmerized, a flush had crept up his neck. Shaking himself out of the stupor, he dropped his hand and stepped back, said, “Oh well, if you’re feeling better perhaps it’s time you gave me back my bed. My hospitality has been exemplary, but I’ve got a crick on the neck and I would love a good night’s sleep.” 

“Are you sending me to the cot?” Arthur asked dumbfounded. 

Merlin grinned in answer.

*

Riding Llamrei again felt like coming home. The wind against his face, tousling his hair was a fantastic sensation, Arthur had always cherished the freedom a day’s ride brought. Just him, Llamrei and the roads.

“We’re almost there,” Merlin said, his breath close to Arthur’s neck. He’d had no other option but to mount behind him, he’d refused at first but Llamrei had allowed him, her strength fully regained. It was a good thing Merlin was lithe and the ride wasn’t a long one, Arthur didn’t want to put much strain on his mare. 

The tree branches ahead of them had started to move, rearranging themselves into the shape of an archway. Arthur realized it was an entrance, deep, deep into the forest. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, Llamrei’s gallop had slowed down. “Where are we?” 

“You’ll see. Trust me.” 

The snow wasn’t as thick, but it still gleamed white. They passed an orchard, the fruits were covered in ice their colours intense. 

“Here. Stop here,” Merlin instructed, pointing at a spot where a high stone passageway, a man with a sour expression, and a woman with brown hair and defiant eyes were standing like sentinels on either side. Merlin swung a leg over the back of the horse, effectively dismounting. The guards inclined their heads acknowledging Merlin, he repeated the gesture in greeting; their faces hardened at the sight of Arthur.

“We’re expected. Both of us,” Merlin said. Arthur dismounted too, coming to stand next to Merlin. He turned to Llamrei and whispered something to her, soothing and caring. “Take care of her, please.” 

The woman nodded, she turned around saying, " _Aliese duru rýne_." Arthur stepped back, seeing a shield-like force fade from the passage. She gestured to the free entrance with her hand, her mouth had twisted into a mocking smile. 

"Follow me," Merlin told him, and much lower, to his ears only, "Don't leave my side." 

Arthur didn't answer. He went along and when they passed through he felt a jolt. A power he'd never experienced before showering him from head to toe. Merlin seemed unaffected, he marched on with the confidence of someone who was familiar with their surroundings.

Arthur saw shadows move, eyes spying them from behind trees, twigs breaking, murmurs, the wind becoming a roar. It was unsettling. Light snow was falling, so light he didn’t even feel it graze his skin. A few paces ahead Arthur caught a glimpse of the image that had his blood running cold and his chest aching. The dark throne was there, as real as he saw it on his dreams. Its usual occupant was missing. 

He clutched his chest, his legs felt weak. The pain had returned with full force. “You—” he choked out, unable to breathe more words. 

“This isn’t what you’re thinking,” Merlin said, he reached over, ignoring Arthur’s protests and held him up. His arms going around his waist. Arthur stiffened, hating how Merlin’s body—and probably his magic too—rooted him. When Merlin made sure Arthur wasn’t going to run or do something equally stupid, he let go without going too far. 

Arthur’s hands had balled into fists. He couldn’t look at Merlin right then. 

A heavy silence fell, the trees, the wind, the whispering voices disappeared into the background. The witch was standing in front of them, she’d came out of nowhere, finally showing herself completely. Her dark hair and light eyes were striking. She raised her chin, her eyes poised over Arthur. Extending a finger toward him she beckoned him over.

He couldn’t fight her, his feet moved on their own accord. All air had left his lungs, he couldn’t and didn’t want to believe that Merlin had lead him to this.

“Morgen,” Merlin said, voice unusually authoritative. 

The invisible clutches holding Arthur loosened. He coughed, greedily sucking in air. Merlin put a hand on his shoulder, Arthur dipped his head letting him know there was no harm done. 

“I was just trying to scare him, Merlin. A bit of flair and drama,” Morgen said unrepentant. Merlin’s eyes flashed golden. She forced a smile. “Now that we’re done with that, are you going to tell me why you’re here?” 

“You know why.” Merlin crossed his arms.

She challenged, “Tell me.”

Arthur having pulled himself together stepped between them. He didn’t like anyone fighting his battles for him. Morgen gaped jerking away from them. Merlin was behind Arthur, protecting his back. Arthur found his body heat comforting. 

“You are the one who cursed me. I’ve come for answers.” Arthur stood to his full height, unwilling to back down. Now that he was here, in this strange land he needed to know the hows and whys.

“Come with me and you’ll get them,” Morgen said, she spread her arms making a flourish with both her hands. Out from the emptiness several tents sprouted around and people came out from thin air. They were dressed in the same fashion as Merlin and the sentinels, some had marks visibles on their skin, much bigger than Merlin's wrist symbol. The power he had felt earlier was tenfold now. Magic. It had to be magic. Every single one of them regarded Arthur with suspicion. Two little girls, one with hair just as white as the snow, and the other with red hair like the orange glow of the sun stepped closer to him, each held a small fox on their arms. Their eyes were big and wide, twigs landed in front of them and Arthur realized they had been playing before he came here and made everyone hide. 

It hit him then that in here he was an outsider, the enemy. All he'd known was being challenged. These were people just like him only with different abilities, dwellers of the forest, creatures of nature and magic. The fear he’d once felt was unfounded. The seed of a man too angry with life to let Arthur see this other side. 

He had taken part in his Father's war against magic, even if he’d never slain a sorcerer with his own hands, he was just as guilty and complicit. He felt sick to his stomach. Merlin didn't have to stand by him or help him at all. 

Arthur started to follow Morgen who hadn’t bothered to wait for him to make sure he was behind her. 

Merlin held his arm making Arthur face him. “What did I told you? You can’t go there by your own.” 

“You asked me to trust you, now I ask you to trust me.” 

Arthur went inside a big, spacious tent, the throne was now there and Morgen was sitting on it. 

“I suppose Merlin was the one who told you all about my little curse,” she observed. She pulled a chair close to him, he sat down trying to get used to magic being so casually used. 

“He did,” he said, “and he didn’t. Merlin told me that he could help me, yet I was the only one who could figure out.” 

“And have you?” 

“You want change.”

Morgen threw her head back and laughed, a sharp derisive sound. “I do. Only it’s not that simple.”

“I want to understand and I want to help. If and when I go back to Camelot I swear I won’t remain silent,” he said. 

“You say you want to understand, yet you haven't listened,” Morgen said. “This isn’t about empty promises. It’s about you choosing what it’s right. Are you willing to go against what your father’s kingdom stands for?” 

Arthur remained silent. Since he had a memory he remembered his father lecturing him about the dangers of magic. Many sorcerers and witches had ended up on the dungeons, wasting away, their liberty taken away because of a nonsensical revenge.

He lifted his head, staring her straight in the eye, with resolution he said, a clear and simple, “Yes.” 

“Maybe Merlin has been right about you all along,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Arthur had the suspicion she was hiding something significant from him. 

“What do you mean?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, in an instant she looked younger, less threatening. She leaned forward, confiding in him, she said, “He’s been coming here everyday to convince me to break the curse. Once he knew I had been the culprit he interfered. He saw something in you none of us did. You see, I had this dream about you, so I had to come to you, but you hunted me. And I lost all hope. Merlin instead took you in, nursed you back to health. He’s become your defender. You not trying to kill him was a good sign I suppose.” 

Arthur bolted upright. “I would never do that.”

“And why not?” 

Arthur found he couldn’t answer, abruptly aware of his truth. Morgen brightened as if she could see inside of him. Her laughter this time was merry.

The camp was bustling when Arthur came out of the tent. Children were running, chasing each other carefree, foxes and wolves roamed around. 

Merlin found him, his worried expression made Arthur’s chest constrict. It had nothing to do with being cursed.

“Are you—” Merlin’s eyes flew over his features, looking for a sign of turmoil and pain. His hands hovering close as if he wanted to touch him to make sure he was safe.

“We talked, nothing else. I know what I have to do.” 

“Arthur, what did you do? Morgen can be dangerous if she wants to be,” Merlin warned. "You can't just strike a deal with her." 

Arthur smiled. He had been so stupid. “Let’s go back.” He caught himself before he said home.

*

Arthur led Llamrei to the barn, Merlin had already gone inside the cottage. Smoke was coming out of the chimney. Good, he was freezing.

“You’ve been a good girl,” Arthur said, patting her head. 

Merlin was laying on the bed, a book between his hands. He looked refreshed and was wearing clean sleeping garments. Arthur glanced at the pallet, two fresh pillows and a folded blanket were waiting for him. It didn't look as inviting as the bed, he had to be a good guest though. 

He stretched, his muscles were sore from the ride. “I’d give anything for a hot bath,” he said. 

Merlin closed the book and sat up. “Anything?” 

“Yes, _anything_.” 

Merlin did his thing. His eyes glowed, he spoke foreign words and a tub full of water appeared behind him. Steam rose, there were herbs floating in the water giving it a sweet smell. Arthur dipped his hand inside, it truly was warm. 

“You’re welcome,” Merlin said going back to his book. 

Arthur forgot about modesty and stripped down to his breeches, excited of getting warm water. He got into the tub groaning in pleasure. The water relaxed his muscles. He stayed there until the water got cold, quickly drying himself and getting dressed in clothes resembling Merlin’s. 

He sat on the pallet testing it. It would have to do. Arthur noticed Merlin was staring. 

“I believe you owe me something,” he said innocently. 

“I don't think so, yes, it was brilliant, but it occurred to me you could’ve done that a long time ago and instead I’ve had to endure cold water,” he said, crossing his arms. 

Merlin lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “You never asked before.” 

“I can’t believe you.” 

“No, I can't believe you. I thought a prince's word was sacred. I guess not. What a shame.” 

Arthur strode to Merlin’s bed, and feeling bold sat down on the edge. Merlin smirked up at him.

“Are you going to comply?” 

“What do you want?” 

Merlin pushed himself up, coming close to Arthur. They were facing each other. Arthur could distinguish the different shades of blue of Merlin’s eyes. 

“A horse? No, no, no. A new cottage? No, better yet, my own castle,” he said. Their hand inches apart on the mattress. 

“What if I don't want to give you any of those things?” Arthur asked, low and husky. He saw Merlin swallow, bite his lower lip. 

“Then?” Merlin murmured. Arthur reached up, letting his thumb trace Merlin's lip. He wanted to feel their plumpness with his own. Merlin’s breath hitched, his eyes intent on Arthur and his movements. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips against Merlin's darting his tongue to pry them open. Merlin let him in, his arms going around Arthur's neck. The angle was awkward, yet Arthur couldn't stop himself from kissing Merlin, from deepening the kiss. Merlin made these sounds that made Arthur's insides tighten and fill with heat. 

Somehow they ended up laying down, Arthur on top of Merlin. Their hands roaming, caressing, their legs had tangled together. Merlin kissed a trail up Merlin’s neck, soft, wet kisses Arthur felt all over. Merlin bit lightly the skin over his adam's apple, and licked as if to soothe. 

Arthur had lost the ability to think. Somewhere, the old him was judging him. It was hard to care with Merlin warm and eager under him. 

“You still owe me a castle,” Merlin said against Arthur's lips. 

“Shut up.” 

Arthur kissed him to stop any words from coming out. Words were superfluous when their bodies were already doing all the talking.

*

They’d gone out to a clearing near the cottage. Merlin had said he needed to gather supplies for his potions now that the snow had begun melting. Arthur remembered Morgen’s words, the snow would be gone soon and so would he. Arthur meant to fulfill his promise to her, and most importantly to Merlin. 

Merlin was cutting rosebuds, they were frozen, alive inside their chrysalis of ice. That morning they hadn't talked about what has transpired between them, about the fact that Arthur had gone to sleep with the taste and feel of Merlin’s mouth on his. Instead they had breakfast in silence and Merlin had pressed him against the door before they went out and kissed him until their lips were bitten red. 

It was unspoken and mutual and to Arthur it was enough. 

His reverie was cut short by a snowball hitting him on the head. “What?” Merlin was still collecting his flowers, the laughter he couldn't contain was a giveaway. 

Arthur had perfect aim, so his own snowball hit Merlin in the back. He shrieked retaliating. 

“I give up,” Arthur said, he wasn't a real match for Merlin's magic. “Aren't you supposed to use your magic for more useful endeavors? I assume there are more magnificent things than snow fights.” 

“Oh, you want magnificent?” 

Merlin dropped his bag on the snow. He went to stand right in the middle, he closed his eyes and when he opened them they were golden. _“Eorthe, lyft, fyr, waeter,”_ he intoned. Trees quivered, the earth buzzed beneath Arthur's feet, hundreds of snowflakes fell. Some landed on his hand, unique and perfect in their symmetry. The distrust he'd harbored for something as wild and beautiful as magic felt like a distant memory. 

Arthur marveled at his surroundings, at the magic flowing in the elements, strong yet delicate, as if by the will of the universe in the blink of an eye all the beauty that surrounded him could collapse. 

“Satisfied?” Merlin asked. Snow had landed on his lashes and hair. Arthur tipped up Merlin’s chin pressing their lips together, Merlin held onto him. 

“You’re bad for me,” Merlin whispered, kissing him back anyway.

The snow kept falling.

*

A woman—slightly younger than them—was waiting outside the cottage by the time they got back. She was pacing and when she saw Merlin she ran and threw herself in his arms. Arthur let go of his hand. Merlin shoot him an apologetic look. 

“Freya,” Merlin said. “What are you doing here?” He was nervous, Arthur could tell. 

“When I came back to the camp I heard you’d visited and that you had brought an outsider.” Freya turned her narrowed gaze on Arthur.

Merlin sighed heavily. “Come inside, I’ll get you something to eat.” 

Freya was from the camp and Merlin's sister. “Not by blood, but by choice,” she’d said. Merlin tended to her, giving her food and one of his capes. She'd damaged hers was beyond repair. It was easy to see Merlin dotted on her. Arthur learned by her mouth that Merlin had broken away from the settlement because his beliefs were different from Morgen’s. Where she wanted darkness, he saw light. 

“She's a good leader though,” Freya said shrugging. 

“I think you’ve ran your mouth enough for a day,” Merlin said, “They must be looking for you. I’m sure you left your post.” 

Freya’s guilty expression reminded Arthur of the time he got caught stealing pudding from the kitchens. 

“I needed to see you,” she said. 

“Why?” 

She sent a surreptitious glance at Arthur. “I’m not sure I can.” 

“Freya, you can speak in front of Arthur. I trust him.” Arthur felt a surge of fondness and pride. Merlin, despite of who he was trusted him. It went both ways. 

"You can never be too careful. Sins of the father," Freya started but deflated rather quickly upon seeing Merlin's warning expression. “I’m sorry, I was out of line. I’m afraid I have judged you based on my biased knowledge of Camelot. How many sorcerers did you say you apprehended?” 

Arthur chuckled, her words cut deep. It hurt even more because she spoke truth. He could no longer hide from it. “Your words aren't lies. I’ve failed your people and myself. I’ve promised to change my mistakes.” 

“Why would you do it?” 

“Because I owe it to Merlin.” 

Freya was appeased, she smiled at him for the first time since she'd come in. Merlin hid his own behind his hand. 

She pushed her empty plate away, looking younger than she was and scared when she said, “Yesterday, when I was near the limits of the forest I saw men. Knights. From Camelot. Our shields steered them away from our path, but they came back today. Do you think they will find us?” 

“Not if I have a say in the matter,” Arthur told her. 

The ice was thawing and Camelot was getting closer.

*

The next week passed by fast. Merlin kept going to the camp and brought news of the men in the nearby lands. Arthur did some rounds astride Llamrei, together they’d started going farther and farther, the forest showing him the way. The pain in his chest was dull, a blunt reminder of his promise.

Morgen was releasing him little by little. 

In one of his rides he caught a glimpse of the men, he recognized them, he’d trained with them. Once he thought he saw Leon among them. 

Freya had started coming over frequently, she never bothered knocking and once she’d almost caught them in a compromising situation. She only saw Merlin getting off from Arthur's lap, both of them wiping their wet mouths with the back of their hands. She'd been unfazed and told them, “I already knew. Carry on. I came for food.” Merlin had been mortified. 

It was nighttime, outside the waxing moon hung in the sky and Arthur couldn't sleep. Yesterday he’d seen the cups of trees going back to green. He couldn't have foreseen his reluctance to go back. He’d found this cottage, an enchanted forest and Merlin. Nothing sounded half as wonderful. 

Merlin wasn't asleep either. He was faking. Arthur turned on the cot. “Are you going to let me come over there already?” 

They’d done this every night since that first kiss. They each retired to their respective beds, but in the middle of the night they’d find their way to each other. It had started with Arthur claiming he was cold. 

“I suppose,” Merlin answered. He lifted the blanket and Arthur wasted no time in getting up and slipping underneath. He held Merlin against his body, Merlin nuzzled his neck. Their arms and legs entwined. 

“I’m having trouble sleeping,” Arthur said. 

“We could be nocturnal like the owl,” Merlin suggested.

Arthur hummed in agreement, he closed his eyes, Merlin perfectly tucked against him. 

Far away: the stars, far away: his kingdom, far away: the world. In here only Merlin existed.

*

_Morgen walked ahead of him, on her shoulder rested a tiny Snowy owl. The roads that had been hidden from him now revealed themselves. With every step she took the snow melted, ice turned to water. Birds were chirping. It was as if the earth had woken up from a long slumber._

_“Soon,” she said. “Be patient.”_

_Arthur was still surrounded by white. Snow fell embracing him. He closed his eyes, when his lids lifted he was too in the presence of new life._

_She stopped and reached out for him. He went to her, taking her hand, their palms were pressed together. A delicate, dark smoke emerged from between and danced between their fingers. Arthur felt the pressure on his chest again, there was burning warmth and then the coolness of fresh water burst within him. The smoke had turned colourless. Arthur could breathe again, he felt lighter. Morgen broke the connection, releasing him. Her smile was kind._

_“Camelot lies ahead. Your time has come, Arthur Pendragon.”_

*

Merlin was tending to the fire much like the first time Arthur had seen him. In the time he’d been in the forest much had changed, and much remained the same. He didn't know it then, but that night something inside him had begun to transform.

Tomorrow he’d be gone. He would return to Camelot. Arthur would keep his promise even when it meant going against his Father. 

He looked out the window, dawn was hours away. Merlin pulled the blankets startling him, he got in the bed taking his previous position. His arm thrown over Arthur's stomach, head on his chest. Arthur pressed a kiss on the top of his head, breathing him in. 

“When you're gone I want you to remember me,” Merlin said, his voice puncturing the silence.

Arthur frowned, looked down at him. Merlin was hiding his face. “What do you mean? Forgetting you would be impossible.” 

Merlin chuckled, his arm tightened around him. He pressed a kiss on Arthur's chest and glanced up. “You say that now but you're going back to your life. You'll be Prince Arthur again. I understand, believe me. I will cherish the moments we shared together.” 

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing, for Merlin to be so dismissive of what they had. Sure, they never said it out loud, but there was something between them. Something worth keeping alive. Maybe, one day, this would be everything for both. 

“Merlin, I swear to you I won't forget. I’ll come back to you, I—” 

Merlin shook his head, pressed a finger against Arthur's lips only to replace it with his mouth. Their mouths moved together, tongues warm and familiar. Arthur's pulse was rushing. Merlin moved to straddle him without breaking apart, it was no easy feat but they managed. Whenever he kissed Merlin, Arthur felt himself lose rational thought and Merlin’s heartbeat, swift and steadfast against him was the only thing that mattered. 

If they had more time Arthur could fall for him. 

Merlin broke away. His lips were shiny, red, they made Arthur want to surge forward for more, to bite and suck. He licked his lips, waited. Merlin rested his forehead again his, his palm against his chest. Arthur's thumb caressed the inside of his wrist.

Arthur gasped at the sudden shock of Merlin's magic reaching him, it was like fire bubbling beneath his skin. A steady flow like an undertow. Arthur was being swept away. 

“Remember me,” Merlin whispered. “Remember me.” 

He ground down his hips, Arthur groaned at the contact. He was hard under Merlin, had been since they'd started kissing. He pulled Merlin back into a kiss, hard and deep. 

They shed their clothing aided by Merlin's magic, it was stronger than ever. Merlin was on top of him, legs bracketed on either side of him. Arthur wanted to cover every inch of naked skin with his mouth. He pressed his lips against his ribcage, licked a stripe there. His fingers touched Merlin's erect cock, light, teasing touches. 

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned, his voice already something wrecked. 

His fingers were slick in a moment and he reached behind, one finger circling Merlin's hole. He was still loose from that morning, but Arthur liked this, knowing he could make Merlin fall apart. But he was having none of it, he took control of the situation, said, “I don’t need it. I just want—” 

He slicked Arthur's cock and slid down, throwing his head back baring his throat, Arthur bit it down. His hands were poised over Merlin's hips. Merlin rode him slowly, his hips rocking steadily, unhurried. Arthur was feeling the strain, his stomach taut and legs quivered. He kissed Merlin through it all. Their bodies were joined and time had slowed down. 

When Merlin came his magic rose again, binding them in golden light. He slumped against Arthur's body. Arthur pushed back inside him, once, twice before he released. 

They laid down together, a mess of limbs and sweaty flesh. Merlin held onto Arthur, his chest rising and falling heavily. Arthur pushed hair from his forehead, pressing a kiss there. Merlin sighed, closing his eyes. 

“I won't forget you,” Arthur murmured in his ear. 

That night he dreamt of Merlin and the forest.

At sunrise Arthur galloped away. It had taken his entire willpower to pry himself away from Merlin. He could still feel their last kiss on his lips. The ghost of Merlin’s arms and body ever present. 

He remembered, how once during a ride with his knights to a nearby kingdom, one of them had said that when you don't want to leave a place and you kept looking back it was because you've laid roots there. A part of your heart left behind. 

Arthur kept glancing back all the way to Camelot.


End file.
